Conceit and Contemptousness
by Band Geek Letter 1
Summary: Freddie Bennet is the second of five sons of a mother obsessed with marrying them off. When the Bingleys and their cold, fun poking best friend move in next door, what will happen?
1. Prologue

Author's Note and Disclaimer: If I owned iCarly would I be writing about it on a fanfiction site? Seriously.

Anywho, here is a little fiction that has been rolling around in my head for a while. "iCarly" and Pride and Prejudice just seemed to go hand in hand. Sam may seem a little out of character in the beginning, but Freddie doesn't really know her yet. This takes place in some alternate universe where people are more cultured and often attend social events like balls. I had to add a lot of original characters, but most are from the series. They are all around the same age, if you will, around the early twenties. So, enjoy!

Band Geek Letter 1

Conceit and Contemptousness

Prologue

"Netherfield Penthouse has been let at last!" My mother burst through the door of our apartment, arms full of groceries. She dumped the bag on the table.

"Really, mother?" my brother John asked.

"Yes, and one of them is a girl!"She clapped her hands and her eyes shimmered with excitement. No doubt she intended to marry one of us off to the unsuspecting new nieghbors. Don't get me wrong, I loved my mom, but sometimes she could be a bit much. She was so smothering! All she thought of was finding wives for us. I can't really blame her; she does have five sons.

John was the eldest. He was one of my best friends. We did everything together. Well, maybe that's a hyperbole, but we often worked together on school projects. Despite this, he didn't and still doesn't tell me everything.

My name is Fredward (if anyone ever sees my mother, please ask her what the heck she was thinking!), but everyone either calls me Freddie or Mr. Bennet. I've an impressive collection of computers, cameras, phones, anyhting really technological-that's sort of my thing. I also enjoyed and still enjoy reading and walking in the sun-it calms you down.

Mark was the middle child. He stayed couped up in the house all day, reading and fencing. He didn't really get outside much.

Kenny and Lionel were inseperable, joined at the hip. The youngest of the bunch, they are most exposed to my mother's way of thinking. They are girl crazy slackers; I'm ashamed to be related to them.

"What's the name?" Kenny inquired.

"Bingley," She answered.


	2. Chapter One

Conceit and Contemptousness

Chapter One

I met the Bingley's about a week later, at the monthly Bushwell Plaza Ball. Everyone from the community was invited. I was talking with my best friend from school, Shane Lucas, about his new videocamera when the ballroom doors flew open, revealing two women and a man. One woman's deep chocolate hair was tied up in a neat bun, and her violet dress glittered with every movement. The second woman's golden locks were in a roll near the nape of her neck and she wore a caramel-chocolate satin evening gown that complimented her sparkling blue eyes. The man wore a tuxedo, as did every other male in close proximity, and he seemed to be related to the first woman.

The music began again, and I forgot all about their strange entrance until my mother pulled me away.

"Freddie, come on!" She exclaimed. "Your father is going to introduce us to the Bingleys!" I tried to appear presentable, well, as presentable as one could be after being dragged halfway across the ballroom by an obsessive mother.

"Ah," my father started. Pointing to each one in turn he said, "Here is my wife Mrs. Bennet with our sons: John, Fredward, Mark, Kenneth, and Lionel." I heard the blonde woman snicker at my name. I shot a painful death glare in her general direction. She quickly stopped.

"How do you do?" The brunette asked. "Allow me to introduce ourselves. My name is Carly Bingley, and I just bought the penthouse across the hall from you. This is my brother Spencer and my best friend, Samantha Darcy." After pleasantries were exchanged, Spencer went off to discuss something of importance with my parents, Mark went off to sit in a corner looking dejected (balls never really were his thing), and Kenny and Lionel went off in search of more girls to giggle about. That left John, Miss Bingley, Miss Darcy and I standing in a little box.

"Miss Bingley, would you care to dance?' John directed to the aforementioned Miss Bingley.

"Oh, Mr. Bennet, that sounds delightful." She accepted. He offered her his arm and they flew onto the dance floor. That left Miss Darcy and I standing alone. She looked me up and down with those big blue eyes. 'Oh' I thought, 'This is beginning to get a tad bit awkward…'

"Soooo," I began. "Miss Darcy… would you care to dance?" I choked out.

She turned to face me and said, "No thank you. I don't really like to dance. But perhaps another time." And then she just stood there. I didn't know what to think of her. She seemed a little aloof. After a while I began to feel her discomfort as well, which immediately faded when John and Miss Bingley returned from the floor.

Wanting to avoid more awkward silences I said, "Well, I must be off. Nice meeting you." And then I left. I walked with Shane around the border and discussed this strange meeting.

"So, what do you think of the Bingleys?" He asked.

"Carly seems very nice. She and my brother seem to be getting along splendidly." I answered, glancing at my brother who was laughing at something Carly said. "I don't know Spencer well, but he seems okay. However, Miss Darcy appears extremely conceited."

"Shh!" Shane dragged me down under a bench as Miss Bingley and the Miss Darcy rounded the corner.

"You seem to be having a good time." Miss Darcy stated.

"Oh Sam! John is the nicest gentleman I have ever met! But what about you? Surely there is someone who interests you here?" Miss Bingley replied.

"No, none at all." Answered Miss Darcy.

"What about John's younger brother? He seems a cheery fellow." Interjected Miss Bingley.

"Oh no. He's not handsome enough to tempt me. Plus he seems like a geek." She replied, and then they walked out of earshot. She had just met me and she already knew my hobby!

"Oh, that despicable girl! Judging people by their interests!" I exclaimed in a whisper.

"Just let it go, Freddie. I'm sure you won't be seeing much of her anyways."


	3. Chapter Two

Author's Note: Hello, it's Band Geek Letter 1 here. Thank you guys so much for all your encouraging feedback! I love seeing how many people read my story. But please review! Reviews make me feel good. So click that button!

Anyways, I want to thank LadyLady1994 and AwkwardSquirrel for reviewing. As I said earlier, reviews are much appreciated! Just to make sure everyone knows where this takes place, it's in some futuristic alternate universe. I know this one's a little short, but we have to wait for the exciting parts, which should be coming up in a couple of chapters.

However, I have no idea when I'll be able to get it done. I'll probably work next weekend, but a lot of big things are coming up. I start rehearsals for dance this week, plus I have SOLs and final exams. But don't worry! I'll try to get as much typing done as possible. I've got so many ideas rolling around in my head it's a little crazy, but I'll try to get them all done. (Stupid plot bunnies won't leave me alone.)

Thanks for reading. I'll shortly be publishing a fractured fairy tale entitled Avocadoes. Look for it!

Conceit and Contemptousness

Chapter Two

John became enamored of Carly. It was a good thing that he was in good graces with Spencer, so he was often invited over for spaghetti tacos and whatnot. Mom absolutely adored it. It seemed John was finally close to marriage. I was happy for him, but I knew once he was gone, Mother would start on me. I was definitely not ready for that.

One day John fell down the stairs in the Bingley's apartment and sprained his ankle. The Doctor ordered that he not be moved from the guest bedroom lest anything worsen. (I bet my mother was bribing him. She never looked so happy in all her life!)

My mom sent me over, but before I went I took a long walk in the park to calm my nerves. There was still a little mud on my shoes, but I didn't care. Mother had sent me to make sure John was okay, and by golly, I was going to.

I knocked on the door, and a butler opened it. I didn't know the Bingleys were _that_ rich and was quite surprised to see him there.

"I'm here to see my brother, Mr. Bennet." I stated.

"Ah," He said, and turned to the couch on which Miss Darcy sat, feet on the table, reading The Penny Treasure. "Miss Darcy. A Mr. Bennet here to see his brother."

She stood up in the blink of an eye and said, "He's upstairs." I walked to the elevator and saw Spencer sitting in the kitchen. I pushed the button and the doors opened.

I pushed the button to close the door and as the doors closed I heard Mr. Bingley whisper, "Did you see the mud on his shoes? And he didn't have socks with light up pineapples!" I thought that was a tad bit strange.

"I didn't notice," Sam replied. She said something more, but then the door closed and the elevator rose. At the top the door flew up and revealed an oddly decorated loft. There was John sitting on the bed.

"Hi John." I asked. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine. The doctor says I can be moved in a couple of days. Carly takes really good care of me." I raised my eyebrows at this. Something was obviously going on.

The elevator pinged again, this time revealing a smiling Miss Bingley.

"Thanks for taking such good care of my brother." I said.

"It's a pleasure to have him here," Miss Bingley started, then realizing how that sounded, said, "I mean, it's not good that he sprained his ankles, but it's good that he's here. Oh, you know what I mean!" She seemed a little flustered.

"Anyways," she continued, "Your brother was telling me how good you are with technology, so I was wondering if you could both be tech producers for our webshow?"

"You have a webshow?" I asked.

"Well, not yet. But we will. Sam and I can come up with the comedy and you guys can do what you do best. Please?" She looked at me with puppy dog eyes.

"Please Freddie," John asked.

"Okay, fine. When should I come over tomorrow?" I inquired.

"How about three?" Miss Bingley suggested.

"Sounds good," I replied. "See you guys tomorrow." I left John and Miss Bingley to their chattering and stepped back into the elevator. When the door lifted to their living room the aroma of ham wafted to my nose. I turned my head to the pleasant smell and found that Miss Darcy had a plate heaped as high as it could go.

"So, you like ham?" I asked.

"Mama loves herself some ham." She replied, not bothering to turn around. I walked around and sat next to her on the oddly colored couch.

She turned around and saw me. Her eyes went wide and she ordered, "Get your own ham!"

"Okay, okay!" I answered, a bit startled by this possesiveness. I got up off the couch and said, "Good Day. Miss Darcy, Mr. Bingley." And I walked out.

Tomorrow was going to be very interesting.


	4. Chapter Three

Author's Note: Bon apres-midi, my readers. Thank you so much for all your positive feedback! I didn't think I'd be staying home again today, but I got a fever again yesterday. Thus, I was able to give you wonderful guys chapter three! I've been sick a lot this year. One of my friends thought I was sick for a month.

Guy Friend #1: Whoa, (Band Geek Letter 1's name) you're back! You were sick a lot.

Band Geek Letter 1: I've been well for the past three weeks.

Guy Friend #1: But you were gone for like, a month!

Band Geek Letter 1: For the last time, (Guy Friend #1's name) I was sick for two weeks, I was well for two weeks, then I got sick again, for two weeks.

Anyways, thank you guys so much! I'll keep posting. Without further ado, Chapter Three.

Conceit and Contemptuousness

Chapter Three

The next day at precisely 2:59 I stood outside the Bingley's apartment again, camera and laptop in tow. I knocked on the door, expecting the butler to answer but was surprised to find Miss Darcy staring back at me. I just stared into the sapphire depths of her eyes until I forced myself to speak.

"May I come in?" I finally asked.

"Uh, sure, Mr. Bennet," She answered and moved out of the way. I carried the bags in and stood just inside the door while she closed it. Carly bounded down the stairs at this extremely opportune moment, interrupting the awkward silence that had reappeared.

"Oh Freddie, I'm so glad you came!" She exclaimed.

"Thanks, the pleasure is all mine, Miss Bingley." I responded.

"I insist that you call us by our first names," She scolded.

"Gladly, Carly," I said.

"What is **he **doing here?" Miss Darcy, er rather, Samantha, interrupted.

"He and John are going to be the technical producers for our web show!" Carly announced.

"Ha! I knew he was a dork!" She boasted.

"Hey!" I chided. "I resent that Samantha!"

"Whatever, Freddork." She began. "But unless you want to have a date with righty," she pointed to her right hand, which was culred up in a fist. "Don't call me Samantha. Sam is fine." She, Carly, and I walked to the elevator. I was still seething, but I would have to try and get along with her, for John's sake. I could not understand how a nice girl like Carly could be friends with this rude, obnoxious, cold, and conceited… thing!

"Here we are, in the studio!" She proclaimed, once we were in the room. It was the same room I had visited earlier, but it was decorated differently. The bed he was in had been pushed to the side, and was now a car with a bed instead of seats. The floor had been waxed, and various colorful baubles had been hung or shelved around the room. John was sitting on a beanbag. There were five beanbags.

"Why are there five chairs instead of four?" I asked, perplexed.

"The fifth one's for my feet." Sam explained as she sat down and propped her feet up on a second beanbag. 'Typical,' I thought to myself. Carly and I took our seats.

"I think we should call the show iCarly," John stated. And so began a rigorous discussion of all things comedic and internet related. I hate to admit it, but Sam was probably the funniest out of all. In between calling me various names, finding out more of my supposed "dorkiness" from John, she came up with some hilarious bits. My favorite was "The Cowboy With a Moustache and the Idiot Farm Girl Who Thought the Moustache was a Squirrel".

After two hours Carly, Sam and I returned downstairs so John could get some rest. Sam sat down at the computer and began typing something out while Carly and I watched Girly Cow. Spencer, who had been downstairs already, wandered around the room until he stopped in front of Sam.

"What ya writing?" He asked her.

"Business letters," She answered, not bothering to take her eyes off the computer screen.

"Oh, that sounds dreadfully odious," Spencer said. "Wouldn't you agree Freddie?"

"Well, it depends on the type of business," I replied.

Clearly unsatisfied with my reply, Spencer inquired. "Won't you join me for a turn around the room to view my sculptures?" I got up and walked around with him. It seemed a little strange, quite honestly.

"Won't you join us, Sam?" He asked.

"Nah," She responded. "I've seen your sculptures billions of times, and you two are obviously discussing your 'manliness', or Freddork's lack thereof, so I think I'll just keep writing these letters."

"Oh, how rude! Freddie, we must punish him. But how?" Spencer asked.

"Are you too proud, Sam? And would you consider pride a fault or a virtue?" I inquired.

"That I couldn't say," She replied.

"Because we're doing our best to find a fault in you." I explained.

"Maybe it's that I find it hard to forgive the follies and vices of others, or their offenses against me. My good opinion, once lost, is lost forever."

"Oh dear, I cannot tease you about that. What a shame, for I dearly love to laugh."

"A family trait I suppose," Spencer interrupted.

There was another silence before I said, "Well, I must be going now. Good day," And with that I walked towards the door. After that incident I felt it was time to return home before Mom called the Police and reported me missing. (Believe me. That's actually happened.)


	5. Chapter Four

Author's Note: Hola, readers of the internet. Well, here I am. I was going to do this Friday, but I had a piano lesson. On Saturday I was gone a t a birthday party the whole day. It's a good thing that I already had this chapter typed up. I think I will update on the weekends, because more people read then. So, without further ado, Chapter Four.

PS: Please review!

Conceit and Contemptuousness

Chapter Four

A few days later I was back in their loft. We were recording iCarly for the first time.

"Well, surely you must be an idiot, because there is not, nor has there ever been a squirrel upon my lip." Sam finished.

"And that's all the time we have for today, folks." Carly said.

"I'm Sam, she's Carly, and always remember two important things," Sam stated.

"One," Carly said. "Never cook a hamster in a waffle iron."

"And two," Sam continued. "Come back next week for a second helping of iCarly." They proceeded to repeat the name in a multitude of odd voices until John and I gave them the all clear. After we checked the equipment we all headed downstairs.

"So, Fredweird. How's the site doing?" Sam acquiesced.

"My name is Freddie," I asserted tartly. "The site is doing great. We got 250,000 visitors."

"Whatever, Freddork,"

"Why must you?" I ask her. And so begins a battle of wits, as we each scramble to find an insult that tops the other.

At this extremely inopportune moment the doorbell rang. Sam and I stopped our verbal exchange and turned to the door.

The butler opened it and proclaimed, "A Mrs. Bennet, a Mr. Bennet, a Mr. Bennet, and a Mr. Bennet."

"Good heavens!" Cried Spencer. "Are we to receive every Bennet in Seattle?" At this point I began to tire of his country. He seemed every bit proud and stuck up as Sam. My mother and brothers nearly barged in, sat down on the couch and took in the scenery.

"Wow," My mother breathed. "Your house is so… unique. It must have cost a fortune! It is sanitized?" My mother was, and still is to this today, a germophobe. She dragged me off to the pediatrician once after hearing me say I felt like blogging. Talk about embarrassing.

Sam snickered at that last question. That was expected of her. Now she had something else on me, while I knew almost nothing of her.

"Oh, Miss Bingley, you must have a ball here!" Kenny commented.

"What?" interrupted an astonished Carly.

"Yes, you simply must have a ball here." My mother implored.

"And you must invite the Models!" Entreated Lionel. This last sentence earned swoons from Kenny, Lionel, and my mother. Have I ever told you how much I despise being related to them, what with their ridiculous notions about girls?

"Well, then," Carly began. "We mustn't disappoint our friends. Name the date." The ball was set to be a month later. My two brothers were nearly bouncing off the walls at the news. Mark sat and looked dejected again.

"Well, we'd best be going," My mother said. "Come on, John. The doctor says you may come home now." The other five Bennets and myself got up from the couch and began to file out the door. I was the last one. I wanted to be out of there as soon as possible.

"Freddie, wait!" Came Sam's voice from behind me. I turned around.

"You left your extra laptop." She handed me the laptop case. As I grabbed the bag our hands brushed for a brief second, and I felt a jolt go through my entire body. I swept the thought away and continued out and didn't stop until I was safe in my own apartment across the hall.


	6. Chapter Five

Author's Note: Bon apres-midi, my readers. I had fun typing up this chapter! Of course, I did it last Sunday, when I had time. I have rehearsal tomorrow from 10:00-3:00. That.. is a long time. So anyways, read and review chapter five! It will make me happy. In the next chapter I get to introduce Miss Collins. Virtual slice of cake to whoever can guess who she is. Review!

Conceit and Contemptousness

Chapter Five

After about two weeks of enduring Sam's company for my brother's sake, my brothers and I were shopping for new cummerbunds when we chanced upon a new woman. She was dressed as one of the models. She had pretty brown eyes and medium length light brown hair. Our meeting was purely coincidental.

"Excuse me, sir, is this your quarter?" She asked. I turned around to find her brown eyes looking at me intently.

"Thank you," I said. Due to the fact that she had given me my quarter, I was sure that she was a good woman. Unlike some people I could mention.

"Valerie Wickham at your service," She saluted me. Just then Kenny and Lionel came up and glommed onto her arms.

"Miss Wickham, you must join us for shopping! We're searching for new cummerbunds!"

Kenny exclaimed.

"Well, I see you have already met my brothers," I concluded.

"Yes," she said as they dragged her off towards Cummerbunds-R-Us. Truthfully, I'd rather visit that store than the Wild Wild Vest. I have bad memories of that place.

I went to work looking for cummerbunds until Lionel interrupted me.

"Oh, Freddie! I simply must have this cummerbund! It'll go perfectly with my tux for Miss Bingley's ball. Can you spot me some cash?" He asked with pleading eyes.

"That isn't going to work this time. You already owe me a fortune, Lionel." I explained.

"Well, it might work on me." Miss Wickham broke in, and pulled a twenty from behind his ears. He grabbed the money eagerly and went off to make his purchase.

"Thanks," I said.

"No problem," She said. "How in the world do you guys know what to wear in the morning?"

"I don't know, we kind of throw something on and hope it matches." I answered.

"Well, at least you guys are so lucky. I can never tell which top goes with which pants."

"Oh dear," I commented. "You must be the shame of the regiments."

"Yes! My superiors are constantly sending me back to my tent! It seems I can never do belts and purses either." She laughed, and soon I was laughing too. She seemed so funny, and at that moment I felt the tiniest of crushes begin to form. This woman was everything I wanted in a partner. She was smart, funny and kind.

We began to leave when Miss Wickham offered to escort us home.

"Oh, that won't be necessary," I began, but Kenny and Lionrl cut me off.

"You must come home with us," Kenny said.

"Yes, please!" Lionel said.

And so it was decided that Miss Wickham should accompany us home. About halfway there I turned to the other side of the street to see Carly and Sam on their motorized scooters. John noticed too, and said, "Hello Carly!"

Carly turned, saw us and exclaimed, "Why it's the Bennets! Look Sam!"

"Hello there!" I chimed in, "We've had the pleasure of making a new aquaintance!" Lionel pointed to Miss Wickham. I saw something pass between Miss Wickham and Sam. Sam narrowed her eyes, sending a painful death glare in Miss Wickham's direction, then stepped on the gas, speeding down the sidewalk in the other direction.

"Sam?" Carly called, obviously perplexed. "Sam, wait up!" She began to speed after her.

"I'll see you Friday!" She called out. Our group was suddenly silent.

"Well that was strange," I stated. We all stood there a few moments more, but then Kenny and Lionel ran ahead, presumbably in pursuit of some models, and John took off after them.

"So, what was that about?" I asked Miss Wickham.

"It's a long story," She answered, blushing.

"I've got time,"

"Well, my mother was the manager of her mother's estate, so I lived for several years next door. Our parents were great friends. But then one my day mother died, leaving me an orphan. Miss Darcy's mother took me in. She loved my like I was her own daughter."

"So why does Miss Darcy hate you if you were practically sisters?"

"Well… her mother loved me more and she despised it. When died, she left me money to pay for seminary and even a parsonage backed into the estate. Miss Darcy refused to give it to me and I've been wandering the country as a penniless model ever since."

"Your feud won't prevent you from attending Miss Bingley's ball?"

"No, I have done nothing wrong. If Miss Darcy wishes to avoid me, it must be her who leaves."

"Well, that's great!" I exclaimed. We continued our conversation until I reached my apartment and we all said our goodbyes. My opinion of Sam lessening had made this a very productive day.

However, I was not expecting to have an unexpected guest for dinner (thus the unexpected.)


	7. Chapter Six

Author's Note: Hello, my readers. I'm so sorry I didn't get this published sooner, but I've been so busy the past few weeks. Two weeks ago I had a dance recital, lst weekend I had a piano recital, and this week I had final exams. But to make up for my abscence, I'm gifting you two chapters. So, enjoy. Also, PLEASE REVIEW!

Conceit and Contemptuousness

Chapter Six

"Boys, this is your second cousin thrice removed, Shannon Collins," My father said. Oh, yes, I had heard of Miss Collins. Through some fluke she would be inheriting the apartment instead of one of us. I looked the girl in front of us up and down. She was a tad bit short, with curly brown hair and brown eyes.

"I'm so excited to be staying with you!" She said. I noticed her gaze kept drifting to John. 'This can't be good,' I thought.

"Miss Collins, won't you join us for dinner?" My father asked.

"Oh, I'd be delighted!" She said. She seemed a bit overexcited. We all stepped into the Dining Room and pulled out our chairs. We sat down and Mother brought in egg casserole. The dish was fluffy eggs with large amounts of cheddar spread through, along with crumbly bits of bacon and bread. We said the blessing and dug in.

I almost laughed as I took in the eating habits of Miss Collins. She cut ridiculously tiny pieces and swirled them on her fork before zooming them into her mouth. Stifled chuckles came from all corners of the table. Apparently I was not the only one who thought it was funny.

"So, who am I to thank for the meal?" Miss Collins inquired.

"I made it," My mother says. Miss Collins applauds-I find that sort of odd.

"Well, it is absolutely delicious!" She comments. The rest of our dinner continues in silence until Miss Collins interrupts the peaceful bliss of noiselessness.

"I brought with me my entire collection of work on Pi. I'd like to read it to you." We all suppress a collective groan, except for Mark, who actually enjoys hearing lectures about Pi. I mean, I love working with numbers, but hearing about them before I go to sleep would likely cause excruciating pain of the brain.

"Sure," I say, using my good manners.

"Delightful," She says. It sounds slightly funny when she says it.

We all cleared the table and retire to the family room where Miss Collins pulled an immense book of calculus from her purse. I have to wonder-how in the world did she fit that thing in there?

Anyways, she begins to drone on and on… and on… and on… about Pi. I've always wondered how there can be so much to say about Pi. Pretty soon, all five of us brothers start to yawn, and mother sends us to our rooms for some much needed sleep, and a break from calculus. I mean, it's not everyday you make a new acquaintance and meet the person who would be removing you from the house once your father died who spoke quite eloquently on matters of a mathematical nature. But as I left I heard a snippet of a conversation.

"As you know, the Lord de Briggs is my esteemed patron. He pays for all my schooling in mathematics. He sent me out to look for a husband. I was hoping to pick one from your sons, and the eldest Mr. Bennet has caught my eye." I heard Miss Collins whisper, quite loudly in fact.

My mother sucked in a breath and replied, "I am sorry to say, but I believe John is madly in love with our neighbor, and that he will propose soon." As soon as I heard this I bolted past my brothers to my room, trying to hide from what I knew was coming next.

"But Freddie is a handsome boy, is he not?"


	8. Chapter Seven

Author's Note: Why hello there again! Here is the masterpiece, Chapter Seven. Dum dum da da! I had so much fun writing this chapter. Have fun reading. And don't forget to review! If you would like to see Sam's dress, copy the link below.

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Conceit and Contemptuousness

Chapter Seven

The next few days were quite uneventful, except for the fact that whenever I was in close proximity to Miss Collins she got this goofy smile on her face and peered at me with large eyes. It began to get annoying after a few seconds or so. Actually, it was quite creepy. Oh, how I wish my mother hadn't planted the blasted idea in her head in the first place. But beggars can't be choosers, can they? And my mother was most certainly begging.

Sam found out about Miss Collins' little "crush" on me and teased me to no end. (She actually used blunter words. I believe she referred to it as a "stalkerish obsession".) For some reason, I found myself upset. I was normally offended when Sam took it upon herself to insult me, only this time more so. I don't know why.

Anyways, what with lectures on trigonometry and unrequited love the days slowly passed until the evening of the Ball at the Bingley's arrived. I was particularly excited to attend, having obtained a promise from Miss Wickham that she would make an entrance sometime during the evening. We dressed in our finery and made our way across the hall to the Bingley Residence. My first impression of the room was sort of elegant feel. The furniture had been removed in order to make way for the scores of dancers. The lights were glowing dimly and everyone was dressed wonderfully. Even Sam looked lovely.

Carly welcomed us, commented on our spiffiness, then sent us in to join the party. The first task on my list was to locate Miss Wickham. I searched high and low but she simply was nowhere to be found. I did, however, find Kenny and Lionel going gaga over some models. I felt someone poke my shoulder, and I turned around in order to honor Miss Wickham with a dance. Unfortunately, all I found was my mother.

"Ask Miss Collins to dance," she instructed.

"But mother…" I replied.

"No ifs, ands, or buts. Now go!" She interrupted. She pushed me in Miss Collins' general direction until I stood right in front of her.

"May I have this dance?" I mumbled. Miss Collins giggled and held out her arm. With reluctance I took it and led her out onto the floor. The last couple joined the group and the music began, a spirited foxtrot.

You know, it is difficult to maintain two separate conversations while dancing. John, who naturally was dancing with Miss Bingley, informed me that Miss Wickham had been detained by her superiors and was unable to make it that evening. I was saddened by the news, but kept a grin on my face. From Miss Collins I learned that you can find the incenter of a triangle by constructing angle bisectors, and that she intended to stay by my side most of the evening. I was scared by that proposition, so as soon as the dance was over I grabbed Shane and proceeded to avoid Miss Collins. In doing so I almost ran over a beautiful girl.

"Oh, I am so sorry," I began to apologize, but I stopped as soon as I saw her face. For the beautiful girl in question was none other than Sam Darcy. I barely recognized her. Her turquoise trumpet ball gown perfectly matched her enchanting eyes. Her golden hair was in a bun near dead center, with bejeweled bobby pins sparkling in the light. Her rosy lips glinted, and smelled slightly of watermelon. I was so taken aback by her appearance that I almost missed what she said.

"Oh, no matter." She began. "Listen, I would like to take a rain check on that dance you offered me. May I have the next dance?"

"Yes," I said, completely unaware of what I was doing. Sam walked away, and I immediately turned to Shane.

"Did I just agree to dance with Miss Darcy?" I spluttered.

"I dare say you will find him amiable." He responded.

"It would be most inconvenient since I have sworn to loathe her for all eternity." I answered. We both chuckled and I made my way towards the dance floor where Sam was waiting.

I assumed the position and placed my hand at her waist, and she put hers on my shoulder. The music, a slow waltz, commenced and we began to dance. After a while, the uncomfortable silence that we were steeped in bothered me so I spoke.

"Do you think the weather will be nice tomorrow?" I asked.

"Yes," He replied. Not satisfied with her answer, I persist.

"But what kind of weather do you think it will be?"

"Do you talk, as a rule, while dancing?" She asked.

"No… no, I prefer to be unsociable and taciturn... Makes it all so much more enjoyable, don't you think?" I answered tartly. As we swayed to the music, it seemed we were the only two in the room.

"Tell me," she opened. "Do you and your brothers very often walk through Seattle?"

"Yes," I answered. "We often walk through Seattle. It's a great opportunity to meet new people. In fact, when you met us, we'd just had the pleasure of forming a new acquaintance."

"Miss Wickham's blessed with such happy manners, as may ensure her making friends. Whether she is capable of retaining them, is less certain." She commented.

"She's been so unfortunate as to lose your friendship. I dare say that is an irreversible event." I mentioned.

"It is. Why do you ask such a question?" She inquired.

"To make out your character." I replied.

"What have you discovered?"

"Very little. I hear such different accounts of you as puzzle me exceedingly."

"I hope to afford you more clarity in the future." With that, the piece ended. "Excuse me," she said and left me standing there. My hands were tingling. And suddenly I remembered there were other people here as well. People that had to be avoided. I ran from the room and hid on the fire escape outside, trying to make out what happened. Of course, my mother would know where I was. She dragged me off to talk to Miss Collins.

"Is that Miss Darcy?" Miss Collins asked when Sam passed by. I nodded. "I must go talk to her. She's the niece of my esteemed patron, Lord de Briggs." She ran off to converse. I tried in vain to stop her, but Miss Collins was determined. I never noticed how much taller Sam is in comparison to Miss Collins. I turned around, avoiding the scene that was obviously going to take place.

I was soon put out of my misery, as soon it was time to exit the premises. All the Bennets gathered together and I hightailed it out of there. As I lay in my bed thinking over the events of evening, I couldn't help but wonder what ulterior motive Sam had for asking me to dance. There had to be something. Nice just wasn't in her nature. This continued to puzzle me as I drifted off to sleep.


	9. Chapter Eight

Author's Note: Why hello there, reader! I finally got around to uploading this. I wrote this sometime last week, but didn't upload it in time. But don't worry. You'll get three chapters this weekend, because I am feeling extremely generous. I have actually finished through Chapter Twelve. You'll get those two, and perhaps thirteen and fourteen next week! However, the week after that I'm gone for a mission project. I'll work on it in my notebook while I'm gone, so when I return Conceit and Contemptuousness will too!

Disclaimer: If I owned iCarly I would be an old guy named Dan Schnieder. I am obviously not him. Nothing here belongs to me.

This whole story is true. It's actually my cousin's writing.

Nah, I'm just kidding.

I'm rambling. Not good. When I went to see Riverdance I rambled on and on....

Anywho, without further ado, Chapter Eight!

Conceit and Contemptuousness

Chapter Eight

The next day breakfast proceeded as usual except for the notable absence of one Miss Collins. I had avoided her company for the rest of last night, and hoped to do the same today. I had no doubt that she intended to force something upon me; said something starting with an m- and ending with –atrimony.

Unfortunately, our peaceful, silent morning routine was interrupted by the intrusion of that which I had hoped had left. But alas, it was not so.

"I would like to speak to Mr. Freddie Bennet alone," She stated. My mother got this gleam in her eye and ordered everyone to the living room.

"Wait!" I pleaded. "Miss Collins cannot possibly have anything to say that everyone can't hear!"

"Nonsense, darling," Mother said, then closed the door, leaving Miss Collins and I alone in the expansive dining room.

"Freddie," Miss Collins began, and I braced myself for the inevitable. "As you know, my small rectory abuts the estate of my esteemed patron, Rosings Park. Lord de Briggs has made it clear that he wishes me to take a husband as soon as possible. I would be honored if you would accept my hand in marriage." And there it was. Plain as the nose on my face.

"No," I said. "I am sorry, Miss Collins, but I am afraid that I must refuse." She didn't seem fazed by my refusal.

"No matter," she said. "I am well aware of your kind's feelings on appearing too forward."

"This is no joke!" I exclaimed. "I am not the kind of guy to lead someone on. I shall not, nor will I ever, accept your hand!" And with that I stormed out of the apartment, ignoring my frantic mother's pleas.

I don't know how long I ran, but I somehow found myself sitting on the bench in the park, looking out over the lake. Not five minutes later my parents appeared as well.

"Your mother insists upon you marrying Miss Collins." He began.

"Yes! Or I'll never see her again!" She interjected.

"Well, Freddie, from this day henceforth it seems you must be a stranger to one of your parents..."

"Who will maintain you when your father's gone?" Mother wailed.

"Your mother will never see you again if you don't marry Miss Collins…" Father stated. "And I will never see you again if you do." I was shocked. I hugged my father with all my might.

"Thank you papa," I whispered in his ear. I walked back to the apartment. I was so glad to not have to marry the dreadful Miss Collins. But I knew some other unlucky duck would get her. I just prayed I didn't know the fellow.

Author's Note: Read and review! If you don't I will sick my friend's visciously cute miniature dachshund upon you who will distract you with her cuteness. Meanwhile my paid ninja assassins kidnap you and take you to my secret mountain lair, where I will torture you until you promise to review!

Not really.

But review... or else!


	10. Chapter Nine

Why hello there. It's me again. Congratulations! You've just won Chapter Nine. So, what are you gonna do next?

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Conceit and Contemptuousness

Chapter Nine

The day proceeded on as usual. At dinner Mother announced that Miss Collins would be staying with the Lucases for the remainder of her visit. I breathed a sigh of relief.

A few days later I found myself seated upon a swing in the park. The sky was overcast and gloomy, but so was I. There hadn't been a peep out of Miss Wickham and the Models were leaving Seattle in a few weeks. There was no explanation from Sam about her strange behavior at the Ball, but I had expected as much.

My mood brightened when I saw Shane walking towards me.

"Shane!" I exclaimed in surprise.

"Freddie," He began, with a look of seriousness upon his face. "I've come to tell you the news. Miss Collins and I are… engaged."

"Engaged!" I nearly barked. "To be married?"

"Yes of course. What other kind of engaged is there?" He replied.

My shock must have shown, because his normally mild demeanor became quite angry and defensive.

"Oh for Heaven's sake!" He exploded. "Freddie, don't look at me like that. There is no earthly reason why I shouldn't be as happy with him as any other."

"But the girl is ridiculous!" I charged.

"Oh hush!" He reprimanded. "Not all of us can afford to be romantic. I've been offered a comfortable home. There's a lot to be thankful for."

"But…" I started.

"I'm twenty-seven years old," He interrupted. "I've no money and no prospects. I'm already a burden to my parents and I'm frightened. So don't you dare judge me Freddie!"

He turned and added, "Don't you dare!" And with that my best friend was gone.

That unexpected visit did nothing to help my sour disposition. I just sat there on that swing, gawking. Suddenly I felt a raindrop upon my nose. I jumped up and dashed home, which I reached before the torrential downpour began.

I strolled into the apartment happy to have escaped death by soaking, only to find John curled up on the sofa in the fetal position, appearing to be miserable. This was quite unusual for him.

"What's wrong?" I implored.

"I got a letter today from Spencer Bingley," he answered.

"Well what was so terrible about it that it caused you to crouch on the sofa in the fetal position?" I asked.

"Go ahead; read it. I don't mind." He handed me the piece of paper, and I soon saw what was bothering him.

_My Dear John, _

_I regret to inform you that we are relocating to Olympia for a while. I do not know when or if we will return. While I'm there I will be reunited with my beloved friend George Darcy, quite possibly the best trombone player this side of the world, of whom I soon hope to have the pleasure of calling brother. _

_Sincerely,_

_Spencer Bingley_

There was more, but since it consisted entirely of a description of George's perfectness I decided to omit it.

"Maybe she doesn't like me!" John blubbered. Oh, how I despised Spencer Bingley at that moment. Anyone who could do that to another person was obviously not a person at all.

"Don't be silly!" I slapped him out of his delirium with a conveniently placed roll of newspaper that had been located on the end table. "Of course she likes you! I bet this whole thing was Spencer's idea. He's taken it into his head to marry Sam for her money. He's trying to make the match more probable. At the moment, Sam is betrothed to the son of Lord de Briggs. If Carly were to marry Mr. Darcy, it would be more likely that Sam would become engaged to him instead of Jeremy de Briggs. He's taken Carly away because he believes that she has become too attached to you! You are obviously a threat to his master plan." I concluded.

"You really think so?" He questioned.

"Of course," I answered. "You two belong together like Romeo and Juliet. Only without the pain, suffering, and death."

"Thanks for cheering me up." He finally lifted himself off the couch. He still appeared dejected, but it was a start.

"Call Aunt and Uncle, and ask if you can stay with them in Olympia for a while. Then go there and win your woman back!" I suggested.

"Yeah," He responded. He smiled as he grabbed the closest phone. My work here was done.

AN: Read and Review.... or else!


	11. Chapter Ten

Author's Note: Why hello there, my lovely readers. I went to the Library today, only to find that it was closed. Sad fact of life isn't it. Well, without further ado, Chapter Ten.

Disclaimer: I still own nothing.

Conceit and Contemptuousness

Chapter Ten

Months passed by in the blink of an eye. Shane and Shannon were married and moved out to Shannon's cottage. The Models moved to Portland, stealing the colorful Miss Wickham away. John left for Olympia. Things were utterly boring until it was time for me to call on the newlywed Lucases.

The journey was uneventful. We didn't meet any robbers along the way, and the chauffeur was good company. Shane and Shannon ran up to greet me as soon as the vehicle pulled up into the driveway.

"Freddie!" Shane welcomed. "Here, let me help you with your bags." I passed one of my suitcases to him and grabbed the other for myself. We chatted the entire way to the guest bedroom, with Mrs. Lucas going on and on in the backround about the various types of flora in her garden. Shannon may have been studying to become a mathematician, but she sure would have made a great horticulturalist. Shane and I set my things down and moved into the study for some Coke.

"We won't be bothered here. This is my private study." Shane said.

"So, what's new with you?" I inquired.

"Oh, nothing much. The house is lovely, and sometimes Lord Charles invites us over for supper. It's very high class."

"Darling!" Came Shannon's voice from the open window.

"What is it? Has the cat got out again?" Shane asked, then sauntered over to the window. "Oh dear! It's Lord Charles!" I ran towards the window just in time to see a limosine pass by.

Shannon ran up to the window to talk with her husband.

"Lord Charles has invited us to dinner. Do not make yourself uneasy, my dear cousin, about your apparrel."

"Just put on whatever you've brought that's best." Shane added.

"Lord Charles has never been averse to the truly humble."

Several hours and a suit later, I sat upon a divan in Lord de Briggs' Drawing Room. The burgundy walls were plastered with framed photos of Randi Jackkson, the firm but fair judge from _Regency Idol_. The couches were upholstered in red and green plaid. Even the rug was plaid. I detected a theme.

I turned to get a better look at my host. Lord Charles had a tight face, pinched so he seemed slightly like a vulture. He had cropped red hair and wore black rimmed glasses and an expensive looking suit.

And then I saw the bane of Spencer Bingley's existence, Jeremy de Briggs. Sam had been betrothed to this sickly boy since the day she was born. Germy, as I'd nicknamed him, was slighly pudgy with a round face, tan skin, and long dark brown hair. Every few seconds he had to sneeze.

The first thing he said to me was, "Pleased… achoo! To… achoo! Meet… achoo! You… achoo!" How I pitied poor Sam. Speaking of Sam, she burst through the door at that exact moment, wearing a lovely aquamarine cocktail dress followed closely by a pretty redhead in a Model's uniform.

"Miss Darcy?" I exclaimed in surprise.

Lord Charles posed a question, "You know my niece?"

"Yes," I answered. "I had the pleasure of meeting her in Seattle."

"How very interesting," Lord Charles commented.

Sam pointed to the girl behind her and said, "Mr. Bennet, allow me to introduce my close friend Colonel Wendy Fitzwilliam."

"Hello," I said. With that, Lord Charles announced it was time for dinner. We all filed into the Dining room where we sat down, after our gracious host of course. We were all about to dig in when Lord Charles interrupted us.

"Mrs. Lucas, you cannot sit next to your husband. Switch with Mr. Bennet." I obediently got up and found myself between my good friend Shane and the always strange Sam.

"So, Mr. Bennet, how are your brothers?" Sam asked me.

"They were fine when I left. John had gone to Olympia so I am not positively sure."

"How many siblings do you have?" Lord Charles wanted to know.

"Four brothers," I replied.

"Four!" Lord Charles seemed appalled. "Your tutor must have had a time with you."

"We never had a tutor."

"Never had a tutor? Well, then your father must have taught you."

"No, we taught ourselves."

"Goodness. And how many of you are out in society?"

"All."

"All? All five of you at once? And while the eldest remains unmarried? I never heard of such a thing."

"I think it is a wonderful way to encourage brotherly affection." Lord Charles remained silent after my last remark. Wendy started a new conversation.

"How was my good friend in Seattle?"

"Well, prepare to be appalled. The first time I met Miss Darcy, she danced with no one, even though there were plenty of men without partners."

"I knew no one beyond my own party!" Sam protested.

At this point Lord Charles deemed that it was time for us to retire to the Drawing Room. We all gathered and removed ourselves to that space.

"Tell me, do you play an instrument, Mr. Bennet?" Lord Charles asked.

"Yes, I play the trumpet, although I have practiced very little." I responded.

"I love music. Especially the bagpipes. They are good for the soul. Jeremy would play if his health allowed him." Here Jeremy chose to sneeze.

"Play for us," Lord Charles commanded.

"But I don't have a trumpet, or even a mouthpiece!" I objected.

"Nonsense, I have a trumpet and a clean mouthpiece in the case over there." He pointed to a case sitting on the floor in the corner. I dejectedly walked over to the brass instrument, assembled it and blew air through to warm it up. There was a chair with a music stand nearby so I sat down and began to play. Sam walked over and stood behind me.

When the song was over and I paused for breath I said, "You mean to frighten me, Miss Darcy, by coming in all your state to hear me, but I won't be alarmed even if your brother does play so well."

"I am well enough acquainted with you, Mr. Bennet, to know that I cannot alarm you, even shoul I wish it" she returned.

"I do not have the talent of conversing easily with people I have never met before," she whispered.

"Well, perhaps you should take your uncle's advice and practice." I recommended. And I brought the trumpet back to my lips, bringing forth a melodious ballad. And I watched Miss Darcy out of the corner of my eye, so that she wouldn't take me by surprise.


	12. Chapter Eleven

Author's Note: Whoa, it's been about three weeks since I last updated! I've been so busy; lots of things involving Church. Anyways, here is the very short elevanth chapter. Hope you like it. My favorite chapter is next. Review and ye shall recieve a free prize of a Virtual Orb of Pure Awesomeness.

Disclaimer: I still don't own iCarly. If you didn't know that by now, I think you've been staring at this computer screen for far too long.

Conceit and Contemptuousness

Chapter Eleven

A few days later I sat at my desk writing a letter to John when I heard the clang of a door. I expected to see Shane and Shannon back from their trip from the village to get some supplies. But my life seemed to be surprising me at every turn. Instead I found an anxious looking Sam.

"Sam!" I cried, and jumped out of my chair. I bowed and she curtsied.

"Please, do sit," She just stood there. Looking at me.

"Mr. and Mrs. Lucas have gone to the village," I explained. Sam looked around the room.

"This is a charming house. I believe my uncle did a great deal to it when Mrs. Lucas first arrived."

"I believe so. He could not have bestowed his kindness upon a more grateful subject," I commented. Then we stood for a while. The silence was beginning to unnerve me.

"Shall I call for some Coke?" I offered.

"No, thank you," she answered. And we stood there for several moments more until she broke the silence.

"Good day, Mr. Bennet. It's been a pleasure." She darted down the hallway, almost running over Shane in the process.

"What have you done to poor Miss Darcy?" he asked.

"I have no idea," I replied.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The next Saturday I attended one of Shannon's lectures. She was speaking on the increasingly tedious subject of imaginary numbers. In an effort to quell my boredom I found myself studying every inch of the hall.

Colonel Wendy must have been uninterested as well because she sprung up a conversation with me.

"Miss Darcy is such a great friend." My eyes gravitated towards the mass of blonde hair in the front row.

"Is she?" I asked.

"Yes, she's loyal, extremely so. She told me that she just saved her best friend from a most dreadful marriage by removing her from the gentleman's company." This interested me. Sam's best friend was Carly Bingley. I had blamed this solely on Spencer, only to find out that Sam was more or less involved.

"What were the objections? Was he poor?" I inquired.

"No, money was the problem. There were no objections to the gentleman himself. I believe she said it was the family." I couldn't believe Sam! Who did she think she was, playing matchmaker? With that I tried to tune out everything else and return to the fascinating nature of imaginary numbers. But my mind would not listen. All I could think of was what Sam did.


	13. Chapter Twelve

Author's Note: Hello, I'm back again. By the way I've started two new stories, Of Evenings in the Woods and Petticoats and Roses. Check them out!

Disclaimer: Most of this chapter belongs to whoever wrote the screenplay for Pride and Prejudice. I don't own it!

* * *

Conceit and Contemptuousness

Chapter Twelve

After the lecture Shane offered me a ride in the carriage back to their cottage. I told them I preferred to walk. That probably wasn't the best idea. The sky was once again overcast, and it began to rain not twenty minutes into my trek. I sprinted to the nearest shelter, and panted under the cover. And then I noticed I was not alone. Sam had come here too.

"Sam!" I exclaimed once again. She always seemed to turn up in the strangest places.

"**Freddie**," she began. "**I have struggled in vain and I can bear it no longer. These past months have been a torment. I came to Rosings with the single object of seeing you… I had to see you. I have fought against my better judgment, my family's expectations, the inferiority of your birth by rank and circumstance. All these things I am willing to put aside and ask you to end my agony.**"

"I don't understand," I interrupted.

"**I love you. Most ardently. Please do me the honor of accepting my hand.**" That last paragraph gave me quite a shock. I struggled to find the right words. She was looking at me intensely.

"Miss," I began. "I appreciate the struggle you have been through, and I am very sorry to have caused you pain. Believe me, it was unconsciously done."

"**Is this your reply**?" she asked.

"Yes, Miss," I answered.

"**Are you... are you laughing at me**?" she faltered.

"No," was my response.

"**Are you rejecting me**?" she challenged.

"I'm sure that the feelings which, as you've told me have hindered your regard, will help you in overcoming it."

"**Might I ask why, with so little endeavor at civility, I am thus repulsed**?"

"And I might as well enquire why, with so evident a design of insulting me, you chose to tell me that you liked me against your better judgment. If I was uncivil, then that is some excuse. But I have other reasons, you know I have."

"**What reasons**?" she wondered.

"Do you think anything might tempt me to accept the hand of the man who has ruined, perhaps for ever, the happiness of a most beloved brother? Do you deny that you separated a young couple who loved each other, exposing your friend to censure of the world for caprice and my brother to derision for disappointed hopes, involving them both in misery of the acutest kind?"

"**I do not deny it**," she confessed.

"How could you do it!" I demanded.

"**Because I believed your brother was indifferent**."

"Indifferent!" I nearly shouted.

"**I observed them most carefully and realized her attachment was far deeper than his**."

"That's because he's shy!"

"**Carly was modestly persuaded that he didn't feel strongly**."

"Because you suggested it!"

"**I did it for her own good**!" she defended.

"My brother hardly shows his true feelings to me." We paused in uncomfortable silence.

"I suppose her fortune had some bearing." I retorted.

"**No, believe me, I wouldn't do your brother the dishonor. It was just merely suggested…**" she explained.

"What was?" I articulated.

"**It was clear that an advantageous marriage would be the worst possible option**."

"Did my brother give that impression?"

"**No! No, there was, however, the matter of your family.**"

"Our want of connection? Miss Bingley did not seem to object?"

"**No, it was more than that**."

"How, Miss?" I contested.

"**It was the lack of propriety shown by your mother, your three younger brothers, and even on occasion, your father!**" she elaborated. I was surprised by the emotion that showed in her face.

"**Forgive me**," she apologized. "You and your brother I must exclude from this."

"And what about Miss Wickham?"

"**Miss Wickham**?" She interjected sarcastically.

"What excuse can you give for your behavior towards her? She told me of her misfortunes, and yet you treat her with sarcasm."

"**So this is your opinion of me. Thank you for explaining so fully. Perhaps these offences might have been overlooked had not your pride been hurt by my honesty**…"

"My pride!" I exploded.

"**In admitting scruples about our relationship. Could you expect me to in the inferiority of your circumstances**?"

"And those are the words of a lady. From the first moment I met you, your arrogance and conceit, your selfish disdain for the feelings of others made me realize that you were the last woman in the world I could ever be prevailed upon to marry." She stared at me with those haunting eyes. It seemed as though we were leaning in to each other; like we were about to… dare I write it, kiss. Suddenly she stopped and appeased.

"**Forgive me, sir, for taking up so much of your time**." With that she left and I was left to speculate by myself, surrounded by pouring rain.


	14. Chapter Thirteen

Disclaimer: I thought I might as well get this out of the way. Most of this chapter belongs to the brilliant Jane Austen. And the story at the bottom, I have no idea who that belongs to, but it is most certainly not me.

Author's Note: Well, I'm back. Keep reading and reviewing and I'll keep writing.

Conceit and Contemptuousness

Chapter Thirteen

The next morning I wandered on a gravel path through the woods near Shane's house, trying to clear my head. I still could not believe that Sam, of all people, had proposed to me in such an insolent manner. Why, it was preposterous.

As these thoughts crowded my brain and the gravel crunched beneath my shoes I nearly ran into her. She stood proud and tall, though she appeared slightly affected by our conversation last night. She had an envelope in her hand.

"Mr. Bennet, I have been walking this path trying to find you. Please read this." She handed me the paper and continued walking in the opposite direction. The paper was still warm from the printer. I placed the letter in my shirtpocket and strolled forward, attempting to forget about it. Curiosity soon got the best of me and I stopped and sat on a tree trunk.

"Be not alarmed, sir, on receiving this letter, by the apprehension of its containing any repetition of those sentiments, or renewal of those offers, which last night were so disgusting to you. I write without any intention of paining you, or humbling myself, by dwelling on wishes, which, for the happiness of both, cannot be too soon forgotten; and the effort which the formation, and the perusal of this letter must occasion, should have been spared, had not my character required it to be written and read. You must, therefore, pardon the freedom with which I demand your attention; your feelings, I know, will bestow it unwillingly, but I demand it of your justice.

Two offences of a very different nature, and by no means of equal magnitude, you last night laid to my charge. The first mentioned was, that, regardless of the sentiments of either, I had detached Miss Bingley from your brother,--and the other, that I had, in defiance of various claims, in defiance of honour and humanity, ruined th immediate prosperity, and blasted the prospects of Miss Wickham—willfully and wantonly to have thrown off the companion of my youth, the acknowledged favourite of my father, a young man who had scarcely had any other dependence than on our patronage, and who had been brought up to expect its exertion, would be a depravity, to which the seperation of two young persons, whose affection could be the growth of only a few weeks, could bear no comparison. But from the severity of that blame which was last night so liberally bestowed, respecting each circumstance, I shall hope to be in future secured, when the following account of my actions and their motives have been read. If, in the explanation of them which is due to myself, I am under the necessity of relating feelings which may be offensive to yours, I can only say that I am sorry. The necessity must be obeyed—and farther apology would be absurd.

I had not been long in Seattle, before I saw, in common with others, that Carly preferred your eldest brother, to any other young man in the city. But it was not until the evening of the dance at Netherfield that I had any apprehension of her feeling a serious attatchment. I had often seen her in love before. At that ball, while I had the honour of dancing with you, I was first made acquainted, by Sir William Lucas's accidental information, that Carly's attentions to your brother had given rise to the general expectation of their marriage. He spoke of it as a certain event, of which the time alone could be undecided. From that moment I observed my friend's behavior attentively; and I could then percieve that her partiality for John was beyond what I had ever witnessed in her. Your brother I also watched. His look and manners were open, cheerful, and engaging as ever, but without any symptom of peculiar regard, and I remained convinced from the evening's scrutiny, that though he received her attentions with pleasure, he did not invite them by any participation of sentiment. If _you_ have not been mistaken here, _I_ must have been in an error. Your superior knowledge of your brother makes the latter probable. If it be so, if I have been misled by such an error to inflict pain on him, your resentment is not unreasonable. But I shall not scruple to assert, that the serenity of your brother's countenance and air was such as might have given the most acute observer a conviction that, however amiable his temper, his heart was not likely to be easily touched. That I was desirous of believing him indifferent is certain—but I will venture to say that my investigations and decisions are not usually influenced by my hopes and fears. I did not believe him to be indifferent because I wished it; I believe it on impartial conviction, as truly as I wished it in reason. My objections to the marriage were not merely those which I last night acknowledged to have required the utmost force of passion to put aside, in my own case; the want of connection could not be so great an evil to my friend as to me. But there were other causes of repugnance; causes which, though still existing, and existing to an equal degree in both instances, I had myself endeavored to forget because they were not immediately before me. These causes must be stated, though briefly. The situation of your mother's family, though objectionable, was nothing in comparison of that total want of propriety so frequently, so almost uniformally betrayed by herself, by your three younger brothers, and occasionally even by your father. Pardon me. It pains me to offend you. But amidst your concern for the defects of your nearest relations, and your displeasure at this representation of them, let it give you consolation to consider that, to have conducted yourselves so as to avoid any share of the like censure, is praise no less generally bestowed on you and your eldest brother, that it is honourable to the sense and disposition of both. I will only say farther that from what passed that evening my opinion of all parties was confirmed, and every inducement heightened which could have led me before to preserve my friend from what I esteemed a most unhappy connection. He left Netherfield for Olympia the next day, as you, I am certain, remember, with the design of soon returning.

The part which I acted is now to be explained. Her brother's uneasiness had been equally excited with my own; our coincidence of feeling was soon discovered, and, alike sensible that no time was to be lost in detatching his sister, we shortly resolved on joining her directly in London. We accordingly went—and there I readily engaged in the office of pointing out to my friend the certain evils of such a choice. I described and enforced them earnestly. But, however this remonstrance might have staggered or delayed her determination, I do not suppose that it would ultimately have prevented the marriage; had it not been seconded by the assurance which I hesitated not in giving, of your brother's indifference. She had before believed him to return her affection with sincere, if not equal regard. But Carly has great natural modesty, with a stronger dependence on my judgement than her own. To convince her, therefore, that she had decieved herself, was no difficult point. To persuade her against returning to Seattle, when that conviction had been given, was scarcely the work of a moment. I cannot blame myself for having done thus much. There is but one one part of my conduct in the whole affair on which I do not reflect with satisfaction; it is, that I condescended to adopt the measures of art so far as to conceal from her your brother's being in Olympia. I knew it myself, as it was known to Mr. Bingley, but his sister is even yet ignorant of it. They might have met without ill consequence is perhaps probable; but her regard did not appear to me enough extinguished for her to see him without some danger. Perhaps this concealment, this disguise was beneath me; it is done, however, and it was done for the best. On this subject I have nothing more to say, no other apology to offer. If I have wounded your brother's feelings, it was unknowingly done; and though the motives which governed me may to you very naturally appear insufficient, I have not yet learned to condemn them.

With respect to that other, more weighty accusation, of having injured Miss Wickham, I can only refute it by laying before you the whole of her connection with my family. Of what she has _particularly_ accused me I am ignorant; but of the truth I shall relate, I can summon more than one witness of undoubted veracity.

Miss Wickham is the daughter of a very respectable man, who had for many years the management of all the Pemberley estates, and whose good conduct in the discharge of his trust naturally inclined my mother to be of service to him; and on Valerie Wickham, who was her goddaughter, her kindness was therefore liberally bestowed. My mother supported her at school, and afterwards at the University of Washington—most important assistance, as her own father, always poor from the extravagance of his wife, would have been unable to give her a gentlewoman's education. My mother was not only fond of this young woman's society, whose manners were always engaging; she had also the highest opinion of her, and hoping that mathematics would be her profession, intended to provide for her in it. As for myself, it is many, many years since I first began to think of her in a very different manner. The viscious propensities—the want of principle, which she was careful to guard from the knowledge of her best friend, could not escape the observation of a young woman nearly the same age with herself, and who had opportunities of seeing her in unguarded moments, which Mrs. Darcy could not have. Here again I shall give you pain—to what degree you only can tell. But whatever may be the sentiments which Miss Wickham has created, a suspicion of their nature shall not prevent me from unfolding her real character—it adds even another motive.

My excellent mother died about five years ago; and her attachment to Miss Wickham was to the last so steady; that in her will she particularly recommended it to me, to promote her advancement in the best manner that her profession might allow—and if she took orders, desired that a valuable family living might be hers as soon as it became vacant. There was also a legacy of one thousand pounds. Her own parents did not long survive mine, and withing half a year from these events Miss Wickham wrote to inform me that, having finally resolved against taking orders, she hoped I should not think it unreasonable for her to expect some more immediate pecuniary advantage, in lieu of the preferment, by which she could not be benefitted. She had some intention, she added, of studying law, and I must be aware that the interest of one thousand pounds would be a very insufficient support therein. I rather wished, than believed her to be sincere—but, at any rate, was ready to accede her proposal. I knew that Miss Wickham ought not to be a mathematician; the business was therefore soon settled—she resigned all claim to assistance in the university, were it possible that she could ever be in a situation to receive it, and accepted in return three thousand pounds. All connection between us seemed now dissolved. I thought too ill of her to invite her to Pemberley, or admit her society in Olympia. In Olympia I believe she chiefly lived, but her studying law was a mere pretence, and being now free from all restraint, her life was a life of idleness and dissipation. For about three years I heard little of her; but on the decease of the incumbent of the living which had been designed for her, she applied to me again by letter for the presentation. Her circumstances, she assured me, and I had no difficulty in believing it, were exceedingly bad. She had found the law a most unprofitable study, and was now absolutely resolved on being ordained, if I would present her to the living in question—of which she trusted there could be little doubt, as she was well assured that I had no other person to provide for, and I could not have forgotten my revered mother's intentions. You will hardly blame me for refusing to comply with this entreaty, or for resisting every repetition to it. Her resentment was in proportion to the distress of her circumstances—and she was doubtless as violent in her abuse of me to others as in her reproaches to myself. After this period every appearance of acquaintance was dropped. How she lived I know not. But last summer she was again most painfully obtruded on my notice.

I must now mention a circumstance which I would wish to forget myself, and which no obligation less than the present should induce me to unfold to any human being. Having said thus much, I feel no doubt of your secrecy. My brother, who is more than five years my junior, was left to the guardianship of my father's neice, Colonel Wendy, and myself. About a year agon, he was take from school, and an establishment formed for him in London; and last summer he went with the man who presided over it, to Ramsgate; and thither also went Miss Wickham, undoubtedly by design; for there proved to have been a prior acquaintance between her and Mr. Younge, in whose character we were most unhappily decieved; and by his connivance and aid, she so far recommended herself to George (whom we affectionatley refer to as Gibby), whose affectionate heart retained a strong impression of her kindness to him as a child, that he was persuaded to believe himself in love, and to consent to an elopement. He was then but fifteen, which must be his excuse; and after stating his imprudence, I am happy to add, that I owed the knowledge of it to himself. I joined them unexpectedly a day or two before the intended elopement, and then Gibby, unable to support the idea of grieving and offending sister whom she almost looked up to as a mother, acknowledged the whole to me. You may imagine how I felt and how I acted. Regard for my brother's credit and feelings prevented any public exposure, but I wrote to Miss Wickham, who left the place immediately, and Mr. Younge was of course removed from his charge. Miss Wickham's chief object was unquestionably my brother's fortune, which is thirty thousand pounds; but I cannot help supposing that the hope of revenging herself on me was a strong inducement. Her revenge would have been complete indeed.

This, sir, is a faithful narrative of every event in which we have been concerned together; and if you do not absolutely reject it as false, you will, I hope, acquit me henceforth of cruelty towards Miss Wickham. I know not in what manner, under what form of falsehood she had imposed on you; but her success is not perhaps to be wondered at, ignorant as you previously were of everything concerning either. Detection could not be in your power, and suspicion certainly not in your inclination.

You may possibly wonder why all this was not told you last night, but I was not then master enough of myself to know what could or ought to be revealed. For the truth of everything here related, I can appeal more particularly to the testimony of Colonel Wendy, who, from our near relationship and constant intimacy, and, still more, as one of the exectutors of my mother's will, has been unavoidably acquainted with every particular of these transactions. If your abhorence of _me_ should make _my_ assertations valueless, you cannot be prevented by the same cause from confiding in my cousin; and that there may be the possibility of consulting her, I shall endeavor to find some opportunity of putting this letter in your hands in the course of the morning. I will only add, God bless you.

Samantha Darcy

PS: In the course of writing this extremely long letter, I became depressed by recounting the events expressed herein. So, for your own amusment, and my own, I shall include a story told to me by my dear brother Gibby.

Strawberry

There once was a little kid who was attacked by a bully on the playground. The bully beat him to a pulp, stole his lunch money and called him a strawberry. The kid was confused so he asked him what a strawberry was, and the bully ran away crying and screaming.

This only confused the kid more, so when recess was over he said to his teacher, "Well, I was playing on the playground at recess when I was attacked by a bully, who proceeded to beat me to a pulp, steal my lunch money, and call me a strawberry. I asked him what a strawberry was and he ran away screaming and crying. So, what's a strawberry?"

The teacher gasped and said, "That's it, young man. You're going to the principal's office!"

So the little boy went to the Principal's office. The Principal asked him, "Why are you here today?"

The kid answered with, "Well, I was playing on the playground at recess when I was attacked by a bully, who proceeded to beat me to a pulp, steal my lunch money, and call me a strawberry. I asked him what a strawberry was and he ran away screaming and crying. So I asked my teacher what a strawberry was and she sent me here. So, what's a strawberry?"

The principal gasped and said, "Young man, call your mother and explain why you are in trouble."

So the little boy called his mother at home, who asked him, "Why are you calling me at home from the principal's office?"

The boy answered, "Well, I was playing on the playground at recess when I was attacked by a bully, who proceeded to beat me to a pulp, steal my lunch money, and call me a strawberry. I asked him what a strawberry was and he ran away screaming and crying. I asked my teacher what a strawberry was and she sent me to the principal's office. I asked the principal what a strawberry was and she told me to call you. So, what's a strawberry?"

The boy's mother gasped and said, "Young man, when you get home you're going to talk to your father about this."

So the little boy went to his house and waited until his father got home. His father asked him, "What did your mother want you to talk to me about?"

The little boy replied, "Well, I was playing on the playground at recess when I was attacked by a bully, who proceeded to beat me to a pulp, steal my lunch money, and call me a strawberry. I asked him what a strawberry was and he ran away screaming and crying. I asked my teacher what a strawberry was and she sent me to the principal's office. I asked the principal what a strawberry was and she told me to call mom. I asked mom and she told me to talk toy you. So, what's a strawberry?"

The boy's father gasped and disowned him.

So the little boy left to live on the streets. Sometime later a cop stopped by the little boy and asked him, "What did you do to get here?"

The little boy responded, "Well, I was playing on the playground at recess when I was attacked by a bully, who proceeded to beat me to a pulp, steal my lunch money, and call me a strawberry. I asked him what a strawberry was and he ran away screaming and crying. I asked my teacher what a strawberry was and she sent me to the principal's office. I asked the principal what a strawberry was and she told me to call my mother. I asked my mother what a strawberry was and she said I had to talk to my dad. I asked my dad what a strawberry was and he disowned me. So, what's a strawberry?"

The cop gasped and said, "We'll see what the judge has to say about that," and arrested the boy.

So, the boy was placed on trial before the judge. The judge asked him, "Why are you on trial here today?"

The boy said, "Well, I was playing on the playground at recess when I was attacked by a bully, who proceeded to beat me to a pulp, steal my lunch money, and call me a strawberry. I asked him what a strawberry was and he ran away screaming and crying. I asked my teacher what a strawberry was and she sent me to the principal's office. I asked the principal what a strawberry was and she told me to call my mother. I asked my mother what a strawberry was and she said I had to talk to my dad. I asked my dad what a strawberry was and he disowned me. I asked the cop I met on the streets what a strawberry was and he arrested me. So, what's a strawberry?"

The judge gasped and said, "You're sentanced to seven years in jail!"

So the little boy went off to jail. His cellmate asked him, "What did you do to get in here?"

The boy answered, "Well, I was playing on the playground at recess when I was attacked by a bully, who proceeded to beat me to a pulp, steal my lunch money, and call me a strawberry. I asked him what a strawberry was and he ran away screaming and crying. I asked my teacher what a strawberry was and she sent me to the principal's office. I asked the principal what a strawberry was and she told me to call my mother. I asked my mother what a strawberry was and she said I had to talk to my dad. I asked my dad what a strawberry was and he disowned me. I asked the cop I met on the streets what a strawberry was and he arrested me. I asked the judge what a strawberry was and he had me sentenced to seven years in jail. So, what's a strawberry?"

His cellmate gasped and was so upset that he started a prison riot. A guard came over to break up the fight and asked the boy, "What caused this riot?"

The little boy answered, "Well, I was playing on the playground at recess when I was attacked by a bully, who proceeded to beat me to a pulp, steal my lunch money, and call me a strawberry. I asked him what a strawberry was and he ran away screaming and crying. I asked my teacher what a strawberry was and she sent me to the principal's office. I asked the principal what a strawberry was and she told me to call my mother. I asked my mother what a strawberry was and she said I had to talk to my dad. I asked my dad what a strawberry was and he disowned me. I asked the cop I met on the streets what a strawberry was and he arrested me. I asked the judge what a strawberry was and he had me sentenced to seven years in jail. I asked my cellmate what a strawberry was and he started the prison riot. So, what's a strawberry?"

The prison guard gasped and said, "Mister, you've just earned yourself thirty more years!"

37 years later the boy, now a man, was a free man. He walked out the door and began to cross the street. He was immediately hit by a bus and killed.

And the moral of the story is: look both ways before crossing the street.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

Author's Note: Why hello there. This is the extremely sorry Band Geek Letter 1. Yesterday I had only four hours at my house, what with starting Marching Band Camp. So, here it is.

Conceit and Contemptuousness

Chapter Fourteen

That letter continued to bother me long after I read it. The first time I read it I refused to believe it. I thought the very idea of of here having any excuse for her actions was absurd. Her actions were inexcusable, especially towards poor Valerie.

But again, my curiosity won me over and I read the letter a second time. Upon my perusal I found that it shared some history with Miss Wickham had told me herself. So I had to wonder who was telling the truth. Was Miss Wickham a poor innocent victim, or had she actually seduced Sam's younger brother Gibby? At first I was inclined to believe Valerie, but I soon realized I bore some prejudice towards Sam for her rude proposal yesterday.

I read farther into the issue. There were some glaring details that cast a bad light on Miss Wickham's character. There was the fact that she did not reveal her past to general pblic until after Sam had left. There was also the matter of her non-appearance at Carly's ball, when she claimed Sam was the one who should be ashamed. And not much was known about Valerie's past except what she told us. She did not seem to have many acquaintances outside of Seattle, whereas I knew Sam's acquaintances to be amiable, excepting Spencer Bingley, of course; but that could not be helped. Being the brother of her best friend she was forced to be acquainted with him.

And thus I decided, that, no matter how much I wished it to be false, Sam was most likely telling the truth. I managed to take that conclusion back with me to Seattle.

Upon my return I found everything in an unusual disarray. Kenny was pouting on the couch, lamenting the fact that he was not closer friends with Mr. Forster. Mark was off somewhere practicing his fencing and John was discussing something with our aunt and uncle.

My youngest brother was skipping around the house in the most ungentlemanly manner, flaunting an invitation. "Oh Freddie, have you heard the news? Mr. Forster has invited me to stay with him when the Models set up camp in Tacoma! Isn't this most wonderful new you've ever heard?"

"Yes, splendid," I answered sarcastically, then ran off to converse with father upon the subject matter.

"Dad, you can't let him go," I pleaded. "He'll simply make a fool of himself."

"Freddie, Lionel won't rest until he's exposed himself in some public manner, and I am convinced Tacoma's the safest possibility. He will be under the constant supervision of the Forsters, and he has little money so I do not believe he will be considered an object of prey. In fact, I am hoping this trip will teach him how insignifigant he really is."

"Father…"

"No, my mind is made up." At this point I stormed out of the study, upset. I knew Lionel was going to do something incredibly stupid there, and he quite possibly could be the ruin of us all. But my father did not believe me, so there was nothing left of the matter.

Later that night, as we all worked on the laundry, I received an invitation from my uncle and aunt to accompany them on their vacation to the Yakima County. I immediately agreed, eager for a chance to escape all this stress. We set out a few weeks later.


	16. Chapter Fifteen

Author's Note: Well, I've had fun at Marching Band Camp. It's been very rigorous. Here's Chapter Fifteen

Dsiclaimer: I still don't own it.

Conceit and Contemptuousness

Chapter Fifteen

A few weeks into our tour of the Yakima County, my uncle's civic decided to break down. We called a tow truck and sat down for lunch.

"Where exactly are we?" I inquired before biting into a juicy apple.

My aunt poured over a map of Washington and answered, "I do believe we are near Pemberley. I wonder if we could get a tour."

"Oh, let's not," I suggested quickly. I did not want to risk running into Sam in her own house.

"Why wouldn't you want to see Miss Darcy's house?" My uncle asked me.

"I don't know. I mean, she's so rich," I explained bashfully.

My aunt chuckled. "Silly Freddie. Being prejudiced against poor Miss Darcy just because she happens to be very well off."

"Relax. These rich types are almost never at home," My uncle assured me. Reluctantly I agreed to visit the estate.

My first thought upon viewing the spectacular front was how different Pemberley was from Rosings Park. Pemberley seemed very natural, while Rosings looked quite gaudy.

"Welcome to Pemberley," the housekeeper greeted us in the foyer.

"And where is the mistress?" I asked, still apprehensive.

"She is in Olympia. She will arrive tomorrow." I breathed a sigh of relief. We had come not a day too soon.

"Come, let us tour the house, shall we?" The housekeeper motioned to a door and we followed. I walked through the mansion in awe at the tastefully decorated splendor. Some of the décor was a little strange, but everything fit together perfectly. I kept thinking, '_All this could have been mine, if I'd said yes._'

We soon came to a sculpture gallery, in the center of which was Sam's likeness captured perfectly in marble.

"Well Freddie, is it an accurate replica?" My uncle asked me.

"Does the young man know Miss Darcy?" The housekeeper inquired.

"Yes," I replied. "But only a little. I met her in Seattle."

"Do you not think her a picture of beauty?"

"Yes," I answered, finding it was the truth. "She certainly is beautiful." I couldn't help staring into the bust's iris-less eyes, imagining it to be Sam herself.

I blinked and brought my mind back to reality. I searched for my companions but they were nowhere in sight. I saw an open door and wandered through. The focal point of this room was a writing desk, covered in a myriad of pens and papers. It suddenly dawned on me that this was Sam's personal office.

The sound of the trumpet playing a lilting melody drifted in from a second door, slightly ajar. It was cracked enough that I saw a teenage boy sitting with his back to a mirror, playing with an unrivaled skill. Suddenly the boy nearly threw down his instrument and ran off.

"Sam!" He yelled enthusiastically. Sam came into the view of the mirror, and I thought to myself, '_This most certainly is not good._' Sam turned and our eyes connected for a fraction of a second. That miniscule amount of time was enough for her to recognize me, so I bolted out the door to the garden.

I, however, was not quite fast enough. She soon caught up with me.

"Mr. Bennet," she acknowledged, and gave a quick curtsy. I responded with a bow.

"I thought you were in Olympia," I blurted out, unable to control myself.

"No," she responded. "No, I'm not."

"They said the house was open for visitors and that you wouldn't be back until tomorrow. I am so sorry. I didn't know." I explained, silently cursing her Lamborghini for getting her back so fast.

"No, no, it's quite alright," she promised me.

She paused for a moment, and then inquired as to where I was staying.

"At the Hilton," I answered.

"A nice establishment," she commented. An awkward silence descended upon us.

"Would you like me to send for my Lamborghini?" She offered.

"No," I answered hastily. "I'm quite fond of walking."

"I know. Good day." With that she walked back into the mansion and I began my long trek back to the Hilton.

When I arrived I was surprised to find Sam conversing easily with my aunt and uncle in the lobby. I hid behind a pillar until I was sure she had left.

"My dear, you've just missed Miss Darcy," my aunt began as I sat down. "She's not at all how you painted her. She's invited us over for dinner tomorrow, and she's particularly anxious for you to meet her brother." She winked at me, for whatever reason.

"Oh, I do not mind." I told them, although I was secretly dreading it.


	17. Chapter Sixteen

Author's Note: Hello reader! Sorry I have not been updating this in a while.... well, here's chapter 16!

Conceit and Contemptuousness

Chapter Sixteen

The next day I sat in my uncle's newly repaired Civic as we drove towards Pemberley. Apprehension passed through me like rising floodwater. Seeing Sam was something I definitely did not want to do today. I wasn't quite sure of how I would get along with her younger brother. But, the event was inevitable; I was going to see her today whether I liked it or not.

As we walked in through the front door, I could not help but gasp again at the splendor of Pemberley. Sam slid down the banister to greet us in a most unladylike fashion; I was only glad she was wearing walking shorts instead of a skirt. Following close behind her was the boy from yesterday.

"Freddie!" She exclaimed. "Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner! I'm so glad you came!" She pulled us all into an impromptu group hug. That was most unexpected.

The boy cleared his throat and Sam released us.

"This is my brother, Gibby," She said, motioning to the boy.

"Pleased to meet you," we replied in unison.

"Gibby, these are the Gardiners," she continued. "And this is their nephew, Freddie, my… friend." She chose her words carefully, yet still managed to look bashfully at the ground, blushing, at that last word. Gibby raised his eyebrows, and I shrugged my shoulders nonchalantly.

"Well Freddie, I hope you enjoy dancing," Gibby said, and proceeded to rip off his shirt while a disco ball lowered down from the ceiling and Sandstorm played from hidden speakers. I gave Sam a questioning look.

"He likes to dance with his shirt off," she explained.

"Why am I not surprised that you would encourage such behavior?" I commented. Gibby whispered something to my aunt and uncle, and they moved to dance in the middle of the foyer.

"Between you and me," Sam whispered in my ear. "When he first exhibited random bursts of shirtless dancing, I thought he was a mermaid."

I laughed out loud. Nowhere before had I ever heard something so ridiculous.

"What?" she said. "I was an impressionable fifteen year old."

"Now it's time for a dance par-tay!" Gibby screamed as the lights turned off and the strobe lights came on. I decided to forget the others and just danced.

* * *

We extended our stay a few more days in order to visit more with the Darcys. With each passing day I found that I was feeling more and more at home with Gibby, and even with Sam. I even began to think that I could have been happy as Sam's husband. In fact, I developed the minisculest of crushes on her.

On our fourth day at Pemberley I received two letters from John, dated a day apart.

_Since writing the above, dearest Freddie, something has occurred of a most unexpected and serious nature; but I am afraid of alarming you-be assured that we are all well. What I have to say relates to poor Lionel. An express came at twelve last night, just as we were all gone to bed, from Colonel Forster, to inform us that he was gone off to Idaho with one of her models; to own the truth, with Miss Wickham! Imagine our surprise. To Kenny, however, it does not seem as wholly unexpected. I am very, very sorry. So imprudent a match on both sides! But I am willing to hope the best, that her character has been misunderstood. Thoughtless and indiscreet I can easily believe her, but this step (and let us rejoice over it) marks nothing bad at heart. Her choice is disinterested at least, for she must know my father can give him nothing. Our poor mother is sadly grieved. My father bears it better. How thankful I am that we never let them know has been said against her; we must forget it ourselves. They were gone off Saturday night about twelve it is conjectured, but were not missed till yesterday morning at eight. The express was sent off directly. My dear Freddie, they must have passed within ten miles of us. Colonel Forster gives us reason to expect her here soon. Lionel left a few lines for her husband, informing him of their intention. I must conclude, for I cannot be too long from my poor mother. I am afraid you will not be able to make it out, but I hardly know what I have written. _

_-John_

A second letter addressed a day later still lay on the table, unread. Anxiously I opened the missive, praying there wouldn't be worse news.

_By this time, my dearest brother, you have received my hurried letter; I wish this may be more intelligible, but though not confined for time, my head is so bewildered that I cannnot answer for being coherent. Dearest Freddie, I hardly know what I would write, but I have bad news, and it cannot be delayed. Imprudent as a marriage between Miss Wickham and our poor Lionel would be, we are now anxious to be assured it has taken place for there is but too much reason to fear they have not gone to Idaho. Colonel Forster came yesterday, having left Tacoma the day before, not many hours after the express. Though Lionel's short letter to Mr. F gave them to understand that they were going to Boise, something was dropped by Denise expressing that W. never intended to go there, or marry Lionel at all, which was repeated to Colonel F., who, instantly taking the alarm, set off from B., intending to trace their route. She did trace them to Clapham, but no further; for on entering that place they removed into a bus and dismissed the taxi that had brought them from Epsom. All that is known after that is, that they were seen to continue on the Olympia Road. I know not what to think. After making every possible inquiry on that side of Olympia, Colonel F. came on into Seattle, anxiously renewing them at all turnpikes, and at the inns in Barnet and Hatfield, but without any success- no such people were seen to pass through. With the kindest concern she came on to Bushwell Plaza, and broke her apprehension to us in a manner most creditable to her heart. I am sincerely grieved for her and Mr. F., but no one can throw any blame on them Our distress, my dear Freddie, is very great. My father and mother believe the worse, but I cannot think so ill of her. Many circumstances might make it more eligible for them to be married privately in town than to pursue their first plan; even if __**she**__ could form such a design against a young man of Lionel's connections, which is not likely, can I suppose him lost to anything? Impossible! I grieve to find, however, that Colonel F. is not disposed to depend on their marriage; she shook her head when I expressed my hopes, said she feared W. was not a woman to be trusted. My poor mother is really ill, and keeps her room. Could she exert herself it would be better, but this is not to be expected. And as to my father, I never in my life saw more affected. Poor Kenny has anger for having concealed their attachment; but as it was a matter of confidence one cannot wonder. I am truly, dearest Freddie, that you have been spared something of these distressing scenes; but now, as the first shock is over, shall I own that I long for your return? I am not as selfish, however, as to press for it, if inconvenient. Adieu! I take up my pen again to do what I have just told you I will not, but circumstances are such that I cannot help begging you all to come here as soon as possible. I know my uncle and aunt so well that  
I am not afraid of requesting it, though I still have something more to ask of the former. My father is going to Olympia with Colonel Forster instantly to try and discover him. What he means to do I am sure I know not; but his excessive distress will not allow him to pursue any measure in the best and safest way, and Colonel Forster is obliged to be at Tacoma again tomorrow evening. In such an exciglince my uncle's advice and assistance would be everything in the world; he will immediately comprehend what I must feel, and I rely upon his goodness._

_-John_

I was totally astounded by the news I had received. Lionel… ran away… with Miss Wickham? Surely this was a joke. I read through the letters and every inkling of doubt I had flew out the window. John was not capable of making a joke like this.

"Oh dear!" I cried, and lept from my chair to find my uncle. In my haste to find said uncle, I nearly ran over Sam as she walked in through an open door, sporting a shirt that read "Pump Up Da Fruit" . Typical Sam. Her demeanor instantly changed when she saw my pallid skin tone and anxious demeanor.

"Freddie, you look like you've been out ice fishing in Alaska for five hours. What's wrong?" She answered, concerned.

"Nothing," I answered quickly. "Tell me, where is my uncle? I must speak with him immediately about an urgent matter."

"He's with your aunt and Gibby, walking around the estate," she answered.

"Thank you," I said and ran off to get him. Or at least I tried to. I collapsed near the door.

"No, I'll send one of the servants for him. You've been traumatized by whatever's in that letter, and I won't see you hurt more." She ordered me. I sat back down in my chair, dazed.

"What is it?" Uncle interrogated when he and my aunt burst through the room.

Wasting no time, I immediately declared, "Lionel has run off with Valerie Wickham. We have no idea where they are. My father has gone to Olympia."

All three pairs of eyes widened. Wait, three? I suddenly realized that Sam was still in the room. Drat! I had just ruined any chance I had with her.

"Oh… oh," My uncle said as he struggled to find his seat. "This is most definitely not good. We'll have to leave immediately. I hope you will not take offense, Miss Darcy."

"No… none at all." She responded, distant. "If there is anything you need help with, don't hesitate to ask."

We left as soon as possible.


End file.
